Bloodline | Harry Potter x Reader [DISCONTINUED]

Second Year~Chapter Six

Harry's POV

I spent a lot of time over the next few days dodging out of sight whenever I saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor. Harder to avoid was Colin Creevey, who seemed to have memorised my timetable. Nothing seemed to give Colin a bigger thrill than to say, 'All right, Harry?' six or seven times a day and hear, 'Hullo, Colin,' back, however exasperated I sounded when I said it.

Hedwig was still angry with me about the disastrous car journey and Ron's wand was still malfunctioning, surpassing itself on Friday morning by shooting out of Ron's hand in Charms and hitting tiny old Professor Flitwick squarely between the eyes, creating a large, throbbing green boil where it had struck. So, with one thing and another, I was quite glad to reach the weekend. Ron, (Y/N) Hermione and I were planning to visit Hagrid on Saturday morning. I, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier than I would have liked by Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

'Whassamatter?' I said groggily.

'Quidditch practice!' said Wood. 'Come on!'

I squinted at the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink and gold sky. Now I was awake, I couldn't understand how I could have slept through the racket the birds were making.

'Oliver,' I croaked, 'it's the crack of dawn.'

'Exactly,' said Wood. He was a tall and burly sixth-year and, at the moment, his eyes were gleaming with a mad enthusiasm. 'It's part of our new training programme. Come on, grab your broom and let's go,' said Wood heartily. 'None of the other teams have started training yet, we're going to be first off the mark this year ...'

Yawning and shivering slightly, I climbed out of bed and tried to find my Quidditch robes.

'Good man,' said Wood. 'Meet you on the pitch in fifteen minutes.'

When I'd found my scarlet team robes and pulled on my cloak for warmth, I scribbled a note to Ron explaining where I'd gone and went down the spiral staircase to the common room, my Nimbus Two Thousand on my shoulder. 

(Y/N) was standing by the common room fire with her eyes closed, leaning on her broom. As she heard me approaching, she drowsily rubbed opened her eyes.

'It's too early,' she yawned. 'Oliver sent Angelina to wake me up.'

We had just reached the portrait hole when there was a clatter behind us and Colin Creevey came dashing down the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something clutched in his hand.

'I heard someone saying your name on the stairs, Harry! Look what I've got here! I've had it developed, I wanted to show you –'

I looked bemusedly at the photograph Colin was brandishing under my nose.

A moving, black and white Lockhart was tugging hard on an arm I recognised as my own. I was pleased to see that my photographic self was putting up a good fight and refusing to be dragged into view. As (Y/N) and I watched, Lockhart gave up and slumped, panting, against the white edge of the picture.

'Will you sign it?' said Colin eagerly.

'No,' I said flatly, glancing around to check that the room was really deserted. From the corner of my eye, I could see (Y/N) with her hand over her mouth, probably concealing her laughter. 'Sorry, Colin, we're in a hurry – Quidditch practice.'

We climbed through the portrait hole.

'Oh wow! Wait for me! I've never watched a Quidditch game before!'

Colin scrambled through the hole after us.

'It'll be really boring,' I said quickly, but Colin ignored me, his face shining with excitement.